Duplicity
by ThePandoraRose
Summary: Nathan and Angela both remember the past as Nathan tries to figure out who he is -- and if he ever really knew his parents at all.


**Title:**Duplicity   
******Characters/Pairings:** Nathan, Angela/Arthur, Kaito/Angela - mentions of Peter's birth**  
****Spoilers:** Season Two **  
********Summary:** While his mother sits in jail, contemplating her own life, Nathan Petrelli tries to figure out who he is and if he ever really knew his parents at all.  
Notes: Please, review, it helps the soul. This is my little Introspective Petrelli piece. I used both Nathan and Angela's POV, as they both look back on their life. I also wanted to use my title in another context. I hope you enjoy it. It's a very stylistic piece, meaning more ideas and less dialogue then I'm use to writing. **  
****Thanks:** Special thanks to my beta JuneSea, and my fellow Petrelli lover. :) Please check out my profile for a mock movie poster and a link to my live journal. Enjoy

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**Duplicity**  
_Nothing is ever black and white_

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It was hard to believe it was real, but there was a time when Nathan Petrelli actually remembered when his mother would hum, not around the house or in the kitchen like a sugar-coated fairy tale, but while playing cards. She'd shuffle the cards in her hand, shifting them to her pleasure, perhaps throwing in a lyric under her breath; an old standard from the time of her parents. At one point she would glance over to Nathan, knowing he was watching her, giving him a quick wink and a sly smile. Nathan was five.

The game of choice was gin. No child's games for Nathan, never go fish or old maid. Not for Angela's boy. Angela talked to Nathan and treated Nathan like the adult he already was, for the two of them had practically grown up together. Married at eighteen, pregnant by twenty, life wasn't at all what Angela had thought it would be. But, being a smart girl, Angela learned fast, Angela adapted fast. She'd gone from a naive school girl to learning the lessons of life in a blink of an eye. Life wasn't to be seen through rose-colored glasses, secrets had to be kept for the protection of others; and love wasn't a living, breathing thing, but an idea. The world isn't put together in picture perfect boxes with nice bows. The only people who love you back are your children. Life is hell and the world can't be saved with pleases and thank yous.

At the time, Nathan knew nothing of the secrets his mother would keep for thirty years, but in the present he was learning fast. Soon Nathan would discover what had happened to the mother he had known as a child. A woman who he now remembered had that same look in her eyes that looked back at him in the eyes of his daughter, Claire. He had almost forgotten that look, until he saw it again looking back at him.

Nathan had idea of the sacrifices and regrets his mother had lived through. The lines she had crossed. The lines that became so blurred she didn't know where she stood anymore. Lies, manipulation and secrets mean nothing when it comes down to the life or death of one's family, or the world. For that, one learns sacrifices, no matter how big or small, must be made.

Then there is that moment, perhaps on some rainy day, when your sins come home to roost and you utter the words, "Never again … it stops here, it stops now ..."

Strength becomes a woman with history. Strength becomes a woman who has survived through it all. But, Nathan Petrelli didn't know any of this. Angela didn't think he needed to know, but Angela was wrong. It was all Nathan needed to know. Children forget that their parents are only human, that their parents were young once. And what parents need to learn is that secrets do not bring protection and that only the truth can set you free.

Slowly Angela lost Nathan to his father, long ago and far away. Nathan left her side fast, and furiously became his father's son. Yet, he was more like his mother than he could possibly know.

A little over thirty years ago, it all seemed to start, and Angela Petrelli was never heard humming again. Not while she played cards, but then, who was left to play with her, and not even in the dark recesses of her mind. Phrases such as, "love is overrated ...," and "When you put everyone else first, you wind up last," were uttered from her lips. Experience and life had taught her things she only hoped her children would never learn first hand. But, wishes are for children, not for adults.

The things we see change us, and Angela had seen more than her almost sixty years would allow. She never had the time to grow up ... to make the decision for herself, the decision was put on her and she never saw it coming. By the time she did, it was all gone, gone to hell. She had mortgaged her soul and there was no turning back. And so she decided for herself, and her husband, that if there was no turning back, forward was the only direction.

Angela finally learned everything her own parents had tried to tell her, but at the time, her body dripped with youth, of the un-jaded and the unbeknownst, she did not listen. If only she had listened, it would have stopped her from a lifetime of hurt and disappointment. But, would she have even understood if she had? She didn't think she would.

So, Angela knew that if she explained this all to her children and her grandchildren, they would never understand it. Never understand, just as she hadn't, the ways of the world. Not unless they had lived it. And that was something she did not want.

Angela's generation, they had wanted to save the world. But, the world is hard to save when it doesn't want to be. When it pushes against you like a fast current trying to reach the shore ... breaking your skin, your will and your reasoning ... breaking your soul.

And so came the time for the other shoe to fall, as the parent finds themselves trying to explain this fruitlessly to their children, "you cannot save the world," to stop them from making the same mistake you did, to spare them that hell ... that pain.

But sometimes it takes just one child to stop the cycle. Sometimes, it takes one child to show the parent that the cycle must be stopped. That faith is a thing not to be let go of, but valued and encouraged. At some point parents must let their children go out into the world and let them experience what lies in the shadows. Sometimes a parent must let go and stop protecting.

Sins are never meant to be passed down, but we are all connected. We are all one. And all decisions have consequences; actions have reactions, not only for one's self, but for one's family. Angela learned that. Nathan learned that. And Nathan's father learned this. Regret is nasty and it runs all over you like honey - sticky and hard to remove.

When Nathan's mother cried, she cried alone in her room. There was no place for the weak in her world. The world spits out the weak. Being over come by her emotions, in public was not an option anymore.

Peter was born the day before Christmas eve, on the eve of the eve of two decades to a new century. Angela's joy returned. She was still never that young wispy thing she once was or vowed never to be again, but she felt her life had purpose. She was more of a mother to Peter in the traditional sense. And while Nathan took a knee at his father's side, Peter seemed to be attached to Angela at the hip. He needed it more, Angela would tell her husband. He needed her protection. He was, after all, her baby. Arthur thought it was all unnecessary. While Angela wanted to protect her son from the world, Arthur felt he needed to know the reality of it. But, Angela would not cut the apron strings. Not until the last possible moment; she'd hold on as tight as she could. Then and only then would she let go.

"After you were eight you didn't need a mother..." Angela told Nathan. "Some people are built for different things. We all have our place in the world. We all have our roles."

And she seemed more than happy that Peter wouldn't be following in her husband's footsteps, in Nathan's. It was almost as if she pushed Nathan out in front and kept Peter to her side. Did she know something Nathan didn't, he wondered, about his destiny ... about Peter's.

When Nathan was 20 and Peter was 9 and Meredith showed up on the Petrelli steps with her bag's packed, his father looked disappointed, but this was expected. It was soon followed by a little moment of pride, this was also expected. Disappointment from his mother was expected to a different degree, but her eyes looked only sad and stoic, in a shocking way he never understood. Looking back maybe he was beginning to. Nathan's mother was different, that was true. Stubborn, always acted as if she was right or knew better, but she was his mother. The woman who bore him, loved him and he loved her back. He couldn't help it, it was just who he was.

Angela was right, Nathan was looking for redemption by trying, as he did, to save his mother, to put his mind at ease, just like Angela had tried with Claire. But, maybe he was doing it all for another reason, maybe to find out all the secrets he barely understood, and all the secrets unspoken. What was behind the mask, beyond the mother he so deeply loved because she loved him back. No matter her sins, she loved him back. It was the mystery of it all. The mystery that after thirty eight years with her, he had no idea who his mother was.

Angela Petrelli sat in her cell, waiting for death to come and get her. She almost wanted it, she may have survived her attack, but she was already dead. Her beloved son was gone and she only had herself to blame. All she could do was wait. Wait in the shadows of her jail cell, for the time when the shadows, once again, would come out and get her. She only had to think about her past for she had no future. Like so many times before, it wasn't about her, it was about her family ... what was left of it. And she was determined; if she was anything in her life it was that.

Yet, Angela still couldn't help but feel the same way she felt when her husband had gone off to war - helpless. This was a different kind of war all together and this time it wasn't Nathan's father, it was Nathan – because she knew he would never listen to her, just like he hadn't four months before. She should have always known. The waiting is always the hardest part.

1965

When Arthur Petrelli saw Angela across a crowded room - she was only 18, he was 25 - attending some social event of his parent's business friends. The social set of the New York upper class, whose daughters went to Smith and sons went to Harvard, while their granddaughters spent summers in Paris. Angela Morotti was such a girl. A good little Italian girl with a Romanian mother, but who was keeping score. She was just the type of girl a young man of the time made his wife - good breeding, good bone structure, and smart as whip.

Arthur Petrelli took her hand and introduced himself, catching her off guard, not just with his charm, but with the abandonment to which he took her attention. What a Petrelli wanted a Petrelli got. She felt connected to him in away she had never felt with anyone. It was as if they had some how found each other in the universe.

Angela wasn't the type of girl Arthur went for, she was chased, younger, but with the smarts and quickness a man of his intelligence needed.

"The mouth on that woman ..." he'd find himself saying to his friends.

She said what she felt and wasn't afraid to say it. Spoiled maybe, he wondered, but most of the time she had a point. And her laugh ... her laugh was infectious, it made her eyes glow. She'd toss her hair behind her back and talk with the maturity of a woman twice her age, a girl who knew there was life beyond cotillions and coming out parties. Angela wanted more out of life than just that. But, the truth was her emotional maturity was still that of an 18-year-old girl and Arthur should have known that. Angela did not know the life of her parents, the life of adults and her wit and intelligence could be deceiving in that matter. She was too young to marry.

"What do you want to do with your life, Angie?" Arthur asked the young girl, who looked at him with unmarried eyes.

Angela laughed it off before finally looking Arthur dead in the eyes, "What does any one want to do with their life ... change the world."

And that was the day Arthur Petrelli knew he would marry this girl. Four months later she agreed to be his wife, slipping the largest engagement ring one could possible see on her finger. It shined like her eyes looking into his.

The Present

"Do I have to?" Angela asked, but she couldn't get out of it.

Angela Petrelli pulled off her engagement ring and handed it over to the police officer, who with the rest of her jewelry, put the ring in a small plastic bag. Angela watched as the last remnant of her life, of the outside world, was carted off in plastic to be bagged and tagged. It had been a part of her person for almost 42 years. It was the nail in the coffin. She held back her tears as she always did with a deep breath. Angela Petrelli never gave anyone the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but you could never not see her holding it in. It made many people remark that her spirit was like steel.

1972

Angela Petrelli never thought she would find herself failing in love with Kaito Nakamura. He was charming and kind, forceful and smart, always sending a kind word her way. And at the time she needed it.

"You're a breathtaking woman, " he once told her. "It is something your husband does not appreciate."

They both didn't mean to start it, but they did. Kaito was amazed by her strength, her beauty and her passion. Angela loved the attention from an older man, attention she no longer got from her husband. To be heard, to feel again ... to feel alive. She was like a child crying out for attention. The trouble was Angela Petrelli was still in love with her husband and falling in love with Kaito at the same time, or was it just the attention. She also liked the sex. She had started the affair almost as a slap in the face to Arthur really, but it soon became something more. How could it not when two people become so private with each other, feel so connected, care for one another. And soon Angela had to end it. Angela chose her family and he understood that. Kaito started spending more time in Japan and by 1977 he was married with a new baby girl. But, they would never stop caring for each other, it was just their way.

The Present

Nathan remembered a time when he looked at his parent's marriage as ideal. He remembered toasting them at their fortieth wedding anniversary, catching them for a moment holding hands, dancing on the dance floor. They grinned; almost glowed in each other's presence. They seemed content, happy. He was proud. It was the same pride he felt, when as a child he would look longingly at an old black and white photo of his parents, young, carefree and smiling.

Dripped in youth, on his own wedding day, he would think of that picture and hope he and Heidi would be half as happy. Maybe he had made the wrong wish. But, as he looked at the same picture, in the present, his life in shambles, he felt lost and that feeling in his stomach had changed. He didn't know those people at all. And maybe that meant he didn't know himself either.

"Your father came back from the war a changed man," Angela once remarked to her son. "But, I still loved him. He was the love of my life," she had a melancholy timbre in her voice, something Nathan didn't understand at the time.

And he wondered if it was the war that had changed his father or if meeting Linderman did. Still he couldn't help but remember the one moment he caught his parents holding each other, for real. He was young; maybe nine or ten, he wasn't sure. Hidden behind a doorway he watched his father wrap his arms around his mother from behind, she was on the verge of tears and they just stood there together like a statue in the silence. It was as if they both needed each other. But, like everything else, Nathan questioned if that moment was even real.

Still, she was his mother. It was just who she was.

Nathan Petrelli put down his parents wedding picture, walked out the door, across the street, into a cab and went over to the police station where his mother was held. To do what he had done twice before; get his mother out of jail. Because it was just who he was.


End file.
